


With Our Backs to the Wall

by soukokudoubleblack



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Get Together, M/M, Pining, Showers, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soukokudoubleblack/pseuds/soukokudoubleblack
Summary: Munakata hadn't noticed at first, but then he caught Fushimi staring at him in the showers and he couldn'tstopnoticing. The playful smirk. The way he drummed his fingers on reports andlookedwhile waiting to be dismissed. The sidelong glances, the undertone in the way he said things, and it was impossible to miss it during sword practice. Since when had Munakata practiced with his clansmen directly in the first place, he wondered guiltily. It all added up to a subtle invitation that was leading to frustration the longer it was ignored.





	With Our Backs to the Wall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



**Fushimi Saruhiko**

There was something fascinating about the sight of Zenjou pressing the Captain up against the wall of his office, and yet it was the Captain pinning Zenjou with that stare that went right through you and that smirk that promised he was going to get the answer he wanted. (Even if sometimes he didn't.)

Saruhiko never really cared for what other people thought of as right or proper, despite the fact that he was now in a Clan ostensibly devoted to just that, and let his amusement show in his voice when he commented, "Sorry, Captain. I can come back later if you're busy."

He wasn't sorry at all. He wasn't sure quite what to make of them, but he knew if he took in all the little details, he'd be able to figure them out like the puzzle they were. The Captain was in control as he used his words against Zenjou and demanded they both listen to him.

Saruhiko listened and wondered to himself if the Blue King understood that to be King was to be invincible, and wondered if this was the reason that King had wanted him.

* * *

He couldn't get the idea out of his head, the Captain pressed up against the wall, couldn't stop thinking about it when he was lying in his bunk. Couldn't decide if he wanted to see it again just like that, or be the one pinned and smirking upward, or—

It was useless to imagine the expression on Misaki's face if he was the one with his back against the wall.

Useless. But he dreamed of it and woke up hot in ways that had nothing to do with the temperature.

* * *

Misaki was the first person to look at him with determination in his eyes and wonder in his voice and want to be with him. He sought Saruhiko out at the oddest times, but he'd _wanted_ him, and it had been utterly unlike when that guy wanted his favorite toy to play with. Saruhiko shied from giving it a name, but they'd been partners and friends. They'd belonged to each other in a way Saruhiko had never belonged to anybody.

He didn't know how to fight with no one to cover, with no one at his back, but he treated it like any other skill and forced himself to ignore the emptiness beside him. That space had been empty for years before Misaki had reached in and filled it. It didn't matter if it was empty now.

"Your skill with the sword is growing, Fushimi-kun," Munakata's rich voice cut through the dojo.

Saruhiko straightened, uncertain whether he was expected to nod respectfully or respond. In the end, he did nothing but push up his glasses a little higher so he didn't have to squint to make out the Captain's face.

His was a hard face to read. Munakata said things like, "I would love to have a hidden weapons user," or "I only want people who can handle their own problems," with a straight face, with no wonder lighting his eyes and face and body, right down to the way he stood and grabbed Saruhiko's arm as if he'd never let him go.

That had turned out all wrong, and maybe it should be Saruhiko pinning Misaki down if Misaki wouldn't do it to him.

Munakata seemed to realize that Saruhiko wasn't going to answer and chuckled with good humor. "I'd like to see how far you've come." His own practice sword was in his hand, and it drew Saruhiko's eye.

It was one thing to fight a Clansman or even some random strain. Who cared? Saruhiko had never doubted his ability to wield power and destroy anything in his way—when Misaki stood beside him.

He stepped forward alone, sword in hand. He'd taken this power for himself. There was no matching mark on Misaki for this vow, no matching blue lighting up the blood in Misaki's veins. This was _Fushimi's_ power. "Captain."

There was no way he was going to win, it became clear quickly. He didn't care. He fought for it and made the Blue King fight to put him back against the wall, then slipped out his knife to aim for the jugular.

For just a moment, Munakata's eyes went very wide. "Very good, Fushimi-kun." He smiled. "You surprised me."

Saruhiko didn't drop the knife but the bout was over. He leaned back and listened the mingled harshness of their breaths, felt the surprising amount of body heat between them, just from a sword locked against his, an arm on the wall beside him.

They'd stopped to catch their breath. The Captain hadn't stopped to trap Saruhiko in place, but he imagined for a moment that he had.

Munakata's eyes seemed to sharpen. He straightened, and Saruhiko wondered briefly if he'd given himself away. "You're a talented swordsman."

There was something in the way he said it that felt uncomfortable. Saruhiko stared at him, frowning, as he tried to figure out what it was.

Misaki had been the first person who wanted him, and despite Kusanagi's efforts to train Saruhiko on everything he knew, Saruhiko had never felt he truly belonged in Homura. He belonged with Misaki until he'd decided somehow without even consciously realizing it that he belonged to this man in front of him.

He'd wanted a hidden weapons user. He'd wanted Saruhiko.

"Was there anything else you wanted, Captain?" Saruhiko asked quietly, feeling it hot in his bones that _he_ wanted something, even if he couldn't name it.

Munakata looked amused but, "No. I'll leave you to your training."

It wasn't surprising really. The Captain was rarely personally involved in anyone's training, preferring to task the Lieutenant with whipping them all into shape—and Saruhiko had far too many bruises and a righteous respect for her ire to prove it—so it wasn't surprising at all. It was disappointing.

* * *

Saruhiko had never much wanted things, besides that guy to stay away for as long as possible, die if he had to and he finally _had_ but it took too long for that to happen. He could remember wanting things, but after so long of watching them break, it was impossible to keep expecting something more.

Misaki had made him believe he could have something to himself, someone, then he'd taken that away when he'd reached out for Mikoto instead.

Saruhiko wanted now. He vaguely wondered sometimes, considering how nothing he did actually had an effect, if the Captain even knew how much his goading and provocations registered as something else altogether when paired with that knowing smirk and suggestive voice. Saruhiko watched in between the intelligence he was gathering, the small missions the Captain sent him on, the growing feeling that he could hold power in his hand without someone there beside him to share it with. It wasn't warm the way Misaki had been warm. It was hot, burning within him in a way it never had with the Red King. Mikoto was fire, and the ice cold blue that filled him now came from the Blue King, but it didn't leave him cold at all.

* * *

He was progressing well. The Captain was pleased, even if Saruhiko could see the growing puzzlement in his eyes when Saruhiko always ended up back against the wall, even when there wasn't a knife waiting at Munakata's throat.

There should have been. Saruhiko was a hidden weapons user, and that was entirely the point.

"I believe you could have salvaged that fight," the Captain commented.

Saruhiko didn't do less than everything to win a fight unless he had a good reason. The Captain wasn't wrong. "Yes, Captain."

Munakata stared at him with that gaze that had always looked right through Saruhiko, had seen someone there Saruhiko had barely seen in himself, and that had known exactly what was going wrong with him when he saw that guy everywhere. Saruhiko didn't bother trying to show what was on his mind. If the Captain couldn't figure it out, that wasn't his problem.

It was entirely his problem. He'd never been this frustrated in his life.

But Munakata didn't say anything then. He didn't say anything when they were using the communal showers and Saruhiko couldn't stop staring at him. He absolutely refused to be the one nearest to hand though when the Captain asked for help washing his back. Someone else in the Sword Unit did it, and that was entirely that.

* * *

Except frustration led to frustration, and the next time Munakata interrupted his sword practice, Saruhiko was far more in earnest and figuring out how to switch between auras effectively at the same time.

He'd already known how to channel aura through a weapon before the Lieutenant showed him how.

Munakata was a _King_ , he wielded infinite power—enough to solve anyone's problems he wished, except he refused to do more than solve society's, just like Mikoto had never solved anyone's problems unless they asked—and there was no way that Saruhiko could ever beat him in a real fight.

It wasn't a real fight. It was practice, and Munakata must have been convinced the flurries of knives he was dodging and the flashes of blue and red weren't intended to kill because he never released the sort of power that would've prevented Saruhiko breathlessly pinning him to a wall, three knives in the Captain's sleeves and sword against the Captain's throat. The Captain's sword was out of reach, lying on the ground, and Saruhiko's blood was singing with this feeling he couldn't identify as anything but want.

Realization shone briefly in the Blue King's eyes but the way he stiffened, as if coming to attention, made Saruhiko fall back.

"An excellent maneuver," the Captain said, smiling in a way Saruhiko resented, if he wasn't intending to do anything about it.

Clearly, whatever he was feeling, it was not reciprocated.

* * *

**Munakata Reisi**

"Fushimi's doing very well," Munakata said with a pleased smile on his smug face.

"Shut up," Mikoto replied casually. "You talk too much."

A very firm part of him would rather have his smoke in peace without the irritation of Munakata's continued presence, but somehow this park bench had become not only the site of their fiery introduction, but a place they'd manage to bump into each other on the irregular. It's not like Totsuka didn't keep Mikoto, Kusanagi, and Yata informed as to how Fushimi was doing, much to Yata and Fushimi's chagrin, so Mikoto didn't need the Blue King butting in with his opinion on the matter.

"So."

For a moment, Munakata looked faintly uncomfortable and Mikoto looked up with interest.

"Is he normally so—" A pause as Munakata seemed to search for the right word. "Flirtatious?"

Mikoto stared at him for a moment, then laughed at Munakata's expense. "Are you asking me for dating tips, Munakata?" He smirked at Munakata's dumbfounded expression.

"Of course not!" Munakata huffed and looked away.

Mikoto decided to take pity on him and answer the question. "Fushimi normally doesn't want people around." He'd stayed around them anyway, for Yata's sake as anyone with eyes could see, but he hadn't shied from showing dislike for it. If he was showing interest now, either he felt the need to fake it or it was genuine.

He doubted Fushimi was faking it.

Munakata opened his mouth to speak again, and Mikoto got up off the bench. "It's none of my business," he said, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked, leaving the Blue King's displeased glare behind him.

* * *

Munakata hadn't noticed at first, but then he caught Fushimi staring at him in the showers and he couldn't _stop_ noticing. The playful smirk. The way he drummed his fingers on reports and _looked_ while waiting to be dismissed. The sidelong glances, the undertone in the way he said things, and it was impossible to miss it during sword practice. Since when had Munakata practiced with his clansmen directly in the first place, he wondered guiltily. It all added up to a subtle invitation that was leading to frustration the longer it was ignored.

His sense of what was right in the world, what was orderly and good was failing him drastically. Somehow it offered him no guidance at all in the matter of what to do with Fushimi.

It affronted his sensibilities to proposition his subordinate, but he was less certain of what to do with his subordinate feeling out the waters to proposition _him._

He should have known though that Suoh would be no help at all.

* * *

Munakata considered the matter over the days that followed, gently trying different ways of phrasing things, different tones to see how Fushimi reacted to him, well, flirting back. He merely got puzzled expressions and question marks in Fushimi's eyes, which was also no help at all.

Finally, Munakata decided he'd have to be more direct. He waited until after another frustrating session in the dojo—swords and knives that continued to surprise him, for Fushimi apparently strove to be unpredictable—until afterward when they were washing up. Fushimi had avoided ever being handy when Munakata asked for assistance washing his back, so he chose to instead ask, "May I assist you with your washing?"

Fushimi blinked at him, dumbfounded expression on his face. It wasn't the first time Munakata had seen that look on him, especially before he'd successfully recruited Fushimi into his clan, but it was rare nonetheless and somewhat pleasurable to take him off-guard.

"If you wish," Fushimi allowed, quiet tone and watchful eyes.

He was tense, far too tense, as Munakata ran the washcloth over his shoulders and down his back. Fushimi had seemed somewhat distrustful from the moment they'd met. He hadn't considered how much trust it would take to allow this, but that only made it feel more intimate and heated. Fushimi made a sudden noise of frustration that startled Munakata to stillness. He wondered how he could prompt such a sound again.

This required looking at each other. He came around and watched Fushimi track him with that wary gaze.

"I'm not entirely sure this is not inappropriate," Munakata began, but trailed off when he saw Fushimi's consternated reaction.

Of course, Fushimi was aware of Munakata's sense of the order of things and that he should probably know exactly whether this was appropriate or not. "Captain?" he asked with a furrowed brow.

And that was the problem. He was the Captain, a superior. "I would not wish you to feel obligated."

Fushimi's face cleared and he gave an exasperated sigh and more exasperated expression before reaching up, tangling his hand in Munakata's hair, and dragging him down for a kiss that was far more knowing than Munakata had expected, intense enough to leave him breathless.

Well, that answered that question.

* * *

It was only much later that Munakata considered he never had washed his own back.


End file.
